it looks ugly, but it's clean

Concept: an immortal who doesn’t shy away from photos or paintings. Draws self portraits on cave walls. Photobombs everything with a pout and a suave pose. Commissions numerous portraits of themself as a literary Romantic before faking their death. Tries to be at least slightly famous every time they have a new identity. Creates a conspiracy blog linking all their past photos together before mysteriously disappearing in mysterious circumstances. Mysteriously. Usually only disappears for 10 to 20 years after “"dying”“ before making another appearance. Everyone else in the immortal community lowkey hates them. “Ah, fuck. You’ll never guess who’s resurfaced again.” “Fucking… Dave?” “Fucking Dave.”

The goddamn Apple Store is so fucking trendy these motherfuckers don’t even use cash registers anymore. Like holy shit why would I ever want to wait in line to pay for my immensely overpriced lightning bolt-to-usb cable, when I can wander around aimlessly looking for the one bearded top knot in the grey shirt who happens to have a card reader attached to his free iPhone 6? Literally fucking walked up a dude and was like ‘Yo where’s the till?’ And guy looks at me straight in the fucking face and says, ‘Oh well, there should be one or two people walking around on either side of the store who can process your payment.’ ALL OF YOU DRESS EXACTLY THE SAME! Am I supposed to accost every single goddamn one of you until I finally find the one goddamn fucking anthropomorphisized Mac Computer who is willing to let me pay for this shit? And when I finally find the dude and let him tap his shit against the box that I’m trying to purchase, of course he gives me the smuggest fucking smile I’ve ever seen on a human face and asks, ‘Would you like to use Apple Pay?’ Like GOOD LORD can we please just take a step outside of your möbius fucking circle jerk and let me hand you fifteen pounds in cash? Cash money? Real fucking physical fucking tender? No it’s okay, I don’t need a fucking receipt. What, you mean you’re going to print me a real receipt? A physical receipt that I can carry in my pocket? You’re not gonna beam it to my fucking wrist? You’re not going to send it via dropbox to an undisclosed fucking IP Address where I have to complete a CAPTCHA and accept your terms and conditions for the one millionth time in order to check that, yes, I did just spend £20 pounds and 45 minutes on a thin wire made of plastic and metal that’s gonna break in a month anyway? I JUST DONT UNDERSTAND THIS PLANET ANYMORE

sometimes u just have to say ‘tragic’ and move on

ghostbusters are always like who are you gunna call? ghostbusters! but it’s hard enough to call the doctor’s office i’m not gunna call the ghostbusters i’d just live with a ghost in my house forever

who you gunna call? no one i have anxiety

i see so many girls and there’s so many different types of pretty… there’s like the honey, green tea pretty girls that like sitting outside and soaking up the sun…. the dark pretty with black eye make up and wild hair and piercings… the bad bitch pretty with killer highlight and striking style….. the lazy pretty girls with snapbacks and sneakers…. the bookish girls with glasses and sweaters that make your heart melt…. the soft Angel pretty girls who just look as sweet as a peach with soulful eyes…. the cute girls with chubby cheeks and messy hair and it seems like warmth emits from them… girls are so fucking beautiful

this is my favorite post, it makes me so happy